Рута Шепетис - Ashes in the Snow [aka Between Shades of Gray]

“LINA, PUT THIS in your pocket and take it to Mr. Stalas,” said Mother, handing me a beet.

The bald man. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it. “Mother, I’m too tired.” I lay on the planks, my cheek flush to the wood.

“I brought some straw for us to sleep on,” announced Jonas. “The women told me where I could find it. I’ll bring more tomorrow,” he said.

“Lina, hurry, before it gets too dark. Take it to Mr. Stalas,” said Mother, organizing the straw with Jonas.

I walked into the bald man’s shack. A woman and two wailing babies took up most of the gray space. Mr. Stalas was cramped in the corner, his broken leg splinted with a board.

“What took you so long?” he said. “Are you trying to starve me? Are you in cahoots with them? What torture. Crying day and night. I’d trade the rotting baby for this rubbish.”

I dropped the beet onto his lap and turned to leave.

“What happened to your hands?” he said. “They’re disgusting.”

“I’ve been working all day,” I snapped. “Unlike you.”

“What do they have you doing?” he asked.

“Digging holes,” I said.

“Digging, eh?” he mumbled. “Interesting, I thought they’d have pulled your mother.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your mother is a smart woman. She studied in Moscow. The damn Soviets know everything about us. They know about our families. Don’t think they won’t take advantage of that.”

I thought about Papa. “I need to get word to my father so he can find us.”

“Find you? Don’t be stupid,” he scoffed.

“He will. He’ll know how to find us. You don’t know my father,” I said.

The bald man looked down.

“Do you?”

“Have those guards gotten to you and your mother yet?” he asked. I looked at him. “Between your legs, have they gotten to you yet?”

I huffed in disgust. I couldn’t take it anymore. I left him and walked out of the hut.

“Hey.”

I turned toward the voice. Andrius was leaning up against the shack.

“Hi,” I said, looking over to him.

“You look horrible,” he said.

I was too exhausted to muster a clever reply. I nodded.

“What are they having you do?”

“We’re digging holes,” I said. “Jonas made shoes all day.”

“I cut trees in the forest,” he said. Andrius looked dirty, but untouched by the guards. His face and arms were tan, making his eyes appear very blue. I pulled a clump of dirt from my hair.

“Which shack are you in?” I asked.

“Somewhere over there,” he said, without motioning in any particular direction. “Are you digging with that blond NKVD?”

“ With him? That’s a joke. He’s not digging,” I said. “He just stands around smoking and yelling at us.”

“His name is Kretzsky,” said Andrius. “The commander, he’s Komorov. I’m trying to find out more.”

“Where are you getting information? Is there any news of the men?” I asked, thinking of Papa. He shook his head.

“There’s supposed to be a village nearby, with a post office,” I said. “Have you heard that? I want to send a letter to my cousin.”

“The Soviets will read everything you write. They’ve got people to translate. So be careful what you say.”

I looked down, thinking of the NKVD asking Mother to be a translator. Our personal correspondence wasn’t personal. Privacy was but a memory. It wasn’t even rationed, like sleep or bread. I thought about telling Andrius that the NKVD had asked Mother to spy.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. He opened his palm to reveal three cigarettes.

“You’re giving me cigarettes?” I asked.

“Well, what did you think, that I had a roasted duck in my pocket?”

“No, I meant… Thank you.”

“Sure. They’re for your brother and your mother. Are they doing okay?”

I nodded, kicking at the dirt. “Where’d you get the cigarettes?” I asked.

“Around.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Fine,” he said quickly. “Look, I gotta go. Tell Jonas I said hi. And try not to ruin the cigarettes with your blister juice,” he teased.

I staggered back to our shack, trying to see which way Andrius went. Where was his hut?

I gave Mother the three cigarettes. “From Andrius,” I said.

“How sweet of him,” said Mother. “Where did he get them?”

“You saw Andrius?” said Jonas. “Is he okay?”

“He’s okay. He chopped wood all day in the forest. He said to tell you hello.”

The Altaian woman toddled over and thrust her hand out to Mother. They had a brief exchange interspersed with “nyets” and stomps from the Altaian woman’s foot.

“Elena,” said Mother, pointing to her own chest. “Lina, Jonas,” she said, pointing to us.

“Ulyushka!” the woman said, thrusting her palm to Mother.

Mother gave her a cigarette.

“Why are you giving her a cigarette?” asked Jonas.

“She says it’s payment toward rent,” said Mother. “Her name is Ulyushka.”

“Is that her first or last name?” I asked.

“I don’t know. But if we’re to live here, we must be able to address one another properly.”

I arranged my raincoat over some of the straw that Jonas had brought. I lay down. I hated the way Mother had said, “If we’re to live here,” like we were staying. I also heard Mother say spaseeba , which meant “thank you” in Russian. I looked over and saw her sharing a match with Ulyushka. Mother pulled two graceful puffs through her long fingers and then put it out quickly, rationing her own cigarette.

“Lina,” whispered Jonas. “Did Andrius look okay?”

“He looked fine,” I said, thinking of his tan face.

I was lying in bed, waiting for the sound. I heard soft footsteps outside. The curtain billowed up, revealing Joana’s tanned face in the window.

“Come out,” she said. “Let’s sit on the porch.”

I crept out of our bedroom and onto the porch of the cottage. Joana draped askew in the rocker, gliding back and forth. I sat in the chair next to her, pulling my knees up and tucking my bare feet under my cotton nightgown. The rocker croaked a steady rhythm while Joana stared off into the darkness.

“So? How was it?” I asked.

“He’s wonderful,” she sighed.

“Really?” I said. “Is he smart? He’s not one of those dumb boys who drink beer at the beach all day, is he?”

“Oh no,” she breathed. “He’s in his first year at university. He wants to study engineering.”

“Hmph. And he doesn’t have a girlfriend?” I asked.

“Lina, stop trying to find something wrong with him.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking,” I said.

“One day, someone will catch your eye, Lina, and hopefully when it happens, you won’t be so critical.”

“I’m not critical,” I said. “I just want to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“He has a younger brother,” said Joana, grinning at me.

“Really?” I crinkled my nose.

“See? You’re already critical and you haven’t even met him.”

“I’m not being critical! So where is this younger brother?”

“He’ll be here next week. Do you want to meet him?”

“I don’t know, maybe. It depends what he’s like,” I said.

“Well, you won’t know until you meet him, will you?” teased Joana.

WE WERE ASLEEP WHEN it happened. I had rinsed off my blisters and started a letter to Joana. But I was too tired. I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, the NKVD was yelling at me, pushing me to get outside.